The Sweet Undying Beauty Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Alma: I give you this again, this beauty mark, or this
Scar:
And it is funny that I sat in the car with you and kissed your
Mouth even though you said you didn’t want to;
And you are either a good girl or a bad girl according to the
Different gods, according to their varying seasons;
But it doesn’t matter:
You have ruined me for any other version of your sex, or
Television:
Maybe you were just a firework- too expensive, going in my mouth,
Your legs pantomiming the jaws of my soul-
And all too soon you went home again, and kissed your children
Who made you whole;
And maybe I shouldn’t be using this kind of language:
Maybe I should be as silent as an empty gun overcome by the enemy
In her deep headdresses of wild-feathers,
But maybe again we saw the male peacock together at the old zoo,
And I held your hand and kissed your mouth:
I was for awhile your albino flag, your feral gringo, or sometimes
Even your newly invented Mexican boy;
But all I know is that I shall not survive without you: these wind vanes are
Uneasy, and the weathers of this liquor most unwholesome:
It is all transcendental: it will not go too far,
And your quiet lips purse in expectation or contentedness that
I should die for you,
That I should so eagerly give my life up to the sweet undying beauty
That you are.